Rhythm
by mebbesumday
Summary: Things got hectic, sure. But that was the rhythm of his life, the beat he walked to. Big stars had to have interesting back stories anyway.


**Chapter 1: Ribbons**

That was new. It wasn't often that he found himself staring at someone that wasn't his reflection in the mirror, but this was confusing enough to merit at least a modicum of a gymnastic god's attention.

"What the hell is twirly ribbons doing here?"

Black Star stopped stretching and jerked a thumb at a some tall chick waving a baton around like it was a friggin' magic wand. She was taking up his floor space.

"Hm? Nakatsukasa? She's here for rhythmic."

Soul Evans looked up at him with a bored stare before bending his arms into an 'L' and vaulting the girl balancing on his hands into the air. She let her long legs point towards the mat before her partner caught her near the waist. With a little flourish of her fingertips, she and Soul posed for a second together, and finally relaxed. They were a perfect acro pair, and if Black Star been into that sort of thing, they might've given him a run for his money. Too bad it was a team sport.

"Oh, yeah! Tsubaki!" Maka Albarn took a swig of water and wiped a few beads of sweat from her forehead. "We used to do tumbling together when we were kids, but she moved. I heard she's gotten pretty good."

"Well, she better get her toys and shit off my floor in ten minutes, because I need to practice."

"They're not _toys_, Black Star. I'd like to see you do that."

"What is there to _do_?" He shot back and made a bewildered gesture at the stick of a girl. "This ain't Zumba class. It's _gymnastics_. Where's the display of strength? A handstand? At least a cartwheel?"

Maka looked pointedly at him when the Tsubaki chick tossed her ribbon in the air, executed a beautiful aerial, and caught it with a smile. Soul let loose a low whistle and noted the coolness of her routine. Black Star bristled.

"So she's a one-trick pony."

* * *

"Damn it."

The city bus had just sputtered into the distance when he realized that his house key was probably still in his locker at the gym. He rifled through his bag, but all he could find was smelly clothes and chalk residue.

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!_

"Mom? Dad?"

Silence. Of course. He hadn't seen either of them for a week. He didn't blame them. Sort of. If he'd had the means, he'd probably want to get out of this ratty old apartment complex too.

"What is the _point_-" he started rattling the doorknob, "- of paying rent -" a kick to the wood, "- if you're _never home_?" A full body slam. "_OW_!"

He considered breaking the window again, but last time his hands had been so cut up he couldn't deal with the parallel bars and his old man had nearly thrown him through the living room wall. With a last kick to the door, Black Star stomped three doors to his right and knocked impatiently until a taller man, cornrows held back by a sweatband, let him in.

"Hey. Can I borrow a crowbar?"

Black Star strolled past his neighbor and dumped his bags unceremoniously onto the floor. Sid Barett rolled his eyes and stacked them more neatly away from the entrance before closing the door.

"Take your shoes off," he rumbled, and Black Star complied, kicking them off as he walked towards their closet.

"Don't think about leaving before you have dinner. I know you just got home from practice. Everyone has to eat."

Mira Nygus called over her shoulder while watching a rice cooker pop to 'Keep Warm' and stirring a pot of stew in the kitchen. His mouth watered a little bit. He was always hungry - he was only seventeen after all, and _still growing_, no matter what Soul told everyone. But, despite his blasé attitude about barging into the couple's house, Black Star really didn't want to impose on the people who had practically _raised_ him any more than he already had.

"_Miraaaa_, I don't want any -"

"I'm not the kind of man who sends a young boy home without dinner," Sid cut him short and rushed to block the closet doorway with his arms crossed.

"But -"

"And I'm not that type of woman," Mira shoved a piping hot bowl of rice and stew against his shoulder, and Black Star made an effort to look displeased. She quirked an eyebrow and raised her arm like she was about to smack him with her spoon before he took it.

"All right, _Mom and Dad_," Black Star huffed. He knew they liked that, though, when he acted like they were his parents, and him their bratty son. The young couple grinned at each other in victory.

Sid and Mira had moved into the neighborhood, if you could call it that, when he was four years old. Most of the apartment's residents found him annoying. _They_ thought he was adorable. Way back when, his parents hadn't trusted him with a house key. He'd gotten locked out more often then, but that was when he could count on at least _one_ of his blood relations to be back home within the next twenty-four hours. As of late, seeing his mother and father for more than a few days at a time wasn't something he expected anymore.

It started when Mira had given him a pouch of Capri-Sun and a few cookies while he sat moping outside his own doorway. He liked people that gave him food - even as a child he'd been a glutton. Sid had given him a ride to primary school one day, when he missed the bus. Finally, when they found him, eight-years-old and sleeping on the stairwell at two in the morning, the decision was made. He was theirs, no matter what the paperwork said.

Help wasn't something that Black Star had taken to easily. It was against his nature, the very core of his being that urged him to take the spotlight for his own. As a kid, he'd believed other people weren't important, but Sid and Mira had somehow wormed their way into his heart. Taught him the importance of friends, having people you cared about. No matter how insufferable he was, no matter how many times they argued over stupid things, the two of them never shut Black Star out of their lives or their home. If he'd had a real family, he imagined _that_ was what it would be like.

And one day, when he was rich and famous and everyone bowed down to him like the god he was, Black Star was going to pay Sid and Mira back tenfold.

"So, what do you need the crowbar for?" Sid looked at him from the corner of his eye.

"Locked out again," Black Star plopped down at the kitchen table and shoveled food into his mouth.

"Black Star..." Mira warned, pointing a rice scooper at him. "You better not be thinking of breaking the window again. You remember what happened last time."

"I'm not breaking the _glass_, I'm just going to pop the lock."

"And what if someone sneaks in while you're sleeping? Stay here tonight."

"We have nothing to steal! Why would anyone want to sneak into that shithole?"

"_Language_."

"I'll replace the lock after he's done."

"Sid, _no one needs to replace the lock_," Black Star protested in exasperation.

"Mmhm. How was practice today?"

Mira abruptly changed the subject, and Black Star knew that it was going to be a race between him and Sid to see who could get to the Home Depot first tomorrow afternoon. He'd stop by after practice. If he caught the first bus, there would be enough time.

"Not bad. Qualifiers are coming up, and Coach says I have a good shot at getting in. I need to clean up my landings though - power's there, but they're not sharp. Not _yet_. But today some chick was taking up half the floor space playing with hair accessories and -"

"Sounds like someone's jealous that he can't do gymnastics _and_ play with _'hair accessories,'_" Sid teased him through a mouthful of dinner.

"As _if_!"

The conversation devolved into a mess of affectionate banter and tell-me-about-your-days. This was why he liked summers. Nothing but work, the gym, and chilling with neighbors and friends. No homework and papers to turn in when he was already up to his eyes in other things to do.

Things got hectic, sure. But that was the rhythm of his life, the beat he walked to. Big stars had to have interesting back stories anyway.

"Okay, I really gotta go," Black Star gathered the dishes up in his arms and started washing at record speed. "Early shift tomorrow."

"Do you want me to pack you breakfast?"

"Nah, I'll just swipe something from the convenience store - I'm _kidding_. I have granola bars. I think."

Mira gave him a look before grinning and pulling him into a tight hug, like a little discipline and a lot of love could keep him from turning out just like his father. Sid joined in on their little sap-fest, mussing his hair before handing the boy a crowbar and sending him on his way.

* * *

He shimmied the flat end of the crowbar into the tiny crack between the window and the sill. Testing the hold, he put a little pressure on the hooked end. The metal creaked a bit, but he heard the lock click in resistance.

"What are you doing?"

Black Star's immediate reaction was to slowly turn around with his hands away from the stick of metal jammed under his window. He'd had enough experience talking to cops to know that it probably wasn't a great idea to look like he was swinging a makeshift weapon around.

"Nothing weird, officer. This is my place, but I'm -"

In the dim light, his eyes finally squinted in recognition. He frowned in annoyance. Definitely not a cop. What was _she_ doing here?

"Locked out? Do you need a place to stay?" Twirly ribbons' face filled with concern and she pointed at the door five feet to his left.

"Wait, you live here?"

"I moved in a few days ago."

So maybe he wasn't the most observant guy in the world. People moved in and out of his complex all the time. But even _he_ was surprised that he hadn't noticed a new neighbor. What had he been doing a few days ago? Working? Sleeping? Maybe both.

"I'm Tsubaki Nakatsukasa. You're from the gym, right? I saw you doing a floor routine earlier today," she held out her hand, but awkwardly let it fall into her pocket when he returned his attention to the crow bar.

"Black Star," he grunted, leaning into the tool. Bluntly, he launched into his usual explanation. "Mom's an addict, dad's a deadbeat. Parents've been naming their kids weird things for generations - will you _open_ _you stupid piece of crap_!"

"It's a nice name. Er, here, let me help you with that."

"I've got it, it's -"

She ignored him and placed a dainty pair of unsolicited hands on either side of his. Zumba wiggled the crowbar a bit until he heard the lock snap in two under his weight.

"Fine," he finished lamely. She hadn't even put any extra force into the crowbar, just jiggled it a bit. What was her name? Sumo? Sake? Tsubaki.

"These apartments have those little push locks in the windows," Tsubaki wagged a finger like she was pushing a pin into place. "I figured if you got it a little loose it would be easier to break. I'm surprised you snapped it, though. They're pretty sturdy."

"I'm a strong guy."

"Yeah, you look like it," she gave a cheerful grin and slapped him playfully on the arm. Was she making fun of him? Or just overly friendly. "Sorry for bothering you. See you at the gym?"

"No problem," Black Star tilted his chin slightly upwards in dismissal and watched as Tsubaki's ponytail quietly disappeared into her apartment.

* * *

A feeble beeping jolted Black Star out of a bad dream and into a waking bad mood. He slapped around on his wobbly nightstand until his palm came into contact with the skull-shaped off button. Rubbing his eyes, he stared at the numbers with sleep-blurred vision.

7:30.

"_Shit_."

How had he slept through his alarm for _thirty minutes_? Black Star leapt out of bed and threw on a shirt. Gym bag, toothbrush, hair gel. Clean pair of pants, clean pair of pants... Where the hell were his _pants_?

In two minutes flat he was presentable and climbing out the front window. It slammed shut behind him and he tore across the apartment parking lot. The city bus was already parked on the street.

"Wait! _WAIT UP!_" Black Star picked up his pace as the bus started to roll forward, but to no avail. It sped away into the traffic. The next one wouldn't arrive for twenty minutes. "_Damn it_."

"Uhm!"

Light footsteps came running towards him. Black Star whirled around in a temper.

"_WHAT?_"

Tsubaki skidded to a stop and looked at him in surprise. She jangled her car keys.

"Do you need a ride? I'm headed towards fifty-eighth and..."

She trailed off at his narrowed eyes while he considered her for a second. Was this a new thing? People giving rides to people they'd just met? In this day and age, who _did_ that?

Plus, he didn't need to be indebted to any more people than he was indebted to now. Black Star eyed his old bike that was combination-locked to the stairwell.

"Thanks, but no thanks," he replied, stalking off towards the ancient two-wheeler. "I'll deal with it myself."

* * *

He'd known Maka the longest, and there was no doubt that Soul was his best friend, but there was no one that _got_ him like Patricia Thompson.

"Heyyy, you made it," Patti high-fived him as he dashed into the kitchen and dropped off her load of used dishes in his already full sink. "Here I was, thinking you up and quit. Even the new girl showed up on time."

He followed Patti's pointed finger and couldn't believe his eyes. There was Zumba, frying eggs and hash browns. The last words she'd said to him echoed in his head.

_"I'm headed towards fifty-eighth and..."_

"Fifty-eighth and _Main_..." Black Star groaned as he shoved his sleeves up to the elbows and dove into a pile of soaking, grime-encrusted dishes. The location of the quirky diner Excalibur. Of _course_ she'd be working here. "She has a car, that's why."

"How d'you know she's got a car? Maybe she isn't _lazy_ and caught her bus on time," Patti elbowed his side, laughing.

"She offered me a ride this morning."

"And you _didn't accept_?"

"No! I didn't! Happy?" It was like arguing with a little sister. "Now will you move before Mr. E -"

"Good _morning_ my darling fools!"

Black Star grimaced as a thin pair of arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders and Patti's.

"Good morning, Mr. E," he moaned. Black Star had a thing for showboating. He understood, sort of. But Mr. E was something else, always dressed in a ridiculous blue tux and top hat, with a beak of a nose, and a mouth that never stopped moving.

"Provision 025!" Mr. E clapped his hands flamboyantly to the side of his face. "Always stay busy! Chop chop, darling fools!"

"What about Provision 063?" Patti's face lit up as she grinned. Black Star rolled his eyes. She was probably the only one in the _entire_ establishment that had bothered to read the huge printout of _provisions_ that Excalibur employees were expected to follow. Mr. E didn't seem to mind if anyone broke them, so long as he could be there to remind them not to.

"Let a cheery attitude resound about the workplace? Yes, what of it?"

"I'm making sure that happens, Mr. E, I swear!"

"_Excellent_, Patti, my fool, excellent! Yes, I remember a time when I had to spread cheer throughout the work place. It was in the springtime of my youth. Summer, though really. Not that I'm particularly old now. I was a different person at the time. Still refined of course, but..."

"I still got it," Patti shot the Black Star a look and cackled as their boss found himself conned into walking into the dining area, talking to himself. He stifled a laugh, feeling a bit less disgruntled, and scrubbed at a particularly disgusting plate.

It was no wonder to him, really, why he and Patti got along so well. They came from similar backgrounds. Although, the little blonde girl put her innocent demeanor and fast thinking to less nefarious uses now. Liz had made sure of that.

"You two gonna leave all the hard work to me?"

_Speak of the devil_, Black Star thought as a taller blonde smacked a tray of dirty dishes onto the counter space at his left. Elizabeth Thompson sauntered up in a cowboy outfit matching her little sister's - the inexplicably western waitress uniform for the medieval-named diner. She smirked down at him, to let him know she was teasing.

"You gonna hit me if I say yes?" Black Star snarked back.

"Might," Liz tapped him in the head with her fist. He could feel the calluses on her knuckles, leftover from her boxing days. "How've you been holding up?"

"Same as last week, Liz."

"Hm. So the 'rents are still leaving you to fend for yourself, huh?"

Liz was in what Black Star liked to call Mama Mode now. It had a lot to do with how the Thompson sisters had grown up. Liz was only twenty-four - ten years older than Patti. By the time Liz herself was sixteen, she was out on the street with a little sister to care for and a deadbeat mother nowhere to be found.

She had done what she needed to do to take care of Patti - stealing, mugging, participating in prize fights. In fact, that was how she'd met Kid. He'd been so spellbound, watching her box with perfect form in the gym next to his, that Patti had been able to sneak the wallet out of his pocket without any trouble.

But Liz hadn't tolerated any of that. If she was going to lead a crooked life, it was so Patti could have a better one. The oldest Thompson sister had confiscated the wallet and dragged Patti to the nicer side of town to return it.

Long story short, when she showed up at his door, Kid hadn't believed his luck and did the first spontaneous thing he'd ever done in his life - ask Elizabeth Thompson to marry him. The look on his face had made her laugh so hard that Liz agreed to think about it. Of course, they'd dated first. Kid had opened up his own gym. Liz had gone back to school. And here they were six years later. When Kid asked her to marry him a second time, Liz finally said yes.

Yeah, Liz was a tough cookie. She'd been through a lot, Black Star would give her that. But it didn't mean that her constant mothering didn't make him feel like he was three years old.

"I know how to fend for myself, Liz."

"Yeah, he rode his bike all the way here, sis!"

Black Star winced.

"You could've called me," Liz said. "Or Kid. Or asked Sid or Mira."

"He didn't even have to! Apparently new girl offered to give him a ride!"

Black Star glared at Patti, and Liz glared at him.

"Take the ride next time, Black Star," she said sternly.

Black Star ignored her, focusing on his pile of dirty dishes. Liz, not one to be defeated, crossed her arms and tapped her foot, waiting. He saw Tsubaki turn her head towards them, curious about the noise and why the waitresses hadn't picked up the plates she set out for them.

"Okay, okay, _okay_," Black Star threw his hands up, sending soapy droplets of water flying through the air. "Next time this happens, I'll _think_ about it."

"That's a good boy," Liz gave him a brief pat on the head and grabbed a clean serving tray from the drying rack.

"Whatever, _grandma_," Black Star stuck his tongue out at her and rounded on Patti. "And you! What's with ratting me out? You're the one that always says _snitches get stitches_."

"True," Patti conceded and walked off with her own serving tray. "But I'm going to give _you_ stitches if you keep letting pride make you act so stupid."

* * *

"Take the damn ride, you idiot," Soul muttered to him while he made sure his house keys were in his bag after practice.

Black Star looked accusingly across the gym at Maka. She shrugged innocently and returned to her conversation with Tsubaki.

* * *

Of course it was pouring rain. Of course the bus was running late. Of course he was dragging his stupid bike halfway across town because, _apparently_, he could sleep through anything.

Black Star crossed his arms and sulked under the plastic cover of the bus stop. So much for going to Home Depot. At this rate, it was going to take him an hour to get home.

He was going to be _late_.

"Hey."

Zumba folded her umbrella as she ducked into the shelter. He nodded to her to acknowledge her presence, but remained silent.

"Soul told me that you didn't want to ride in his sidecar with Maka. I've got plenty of room in my car, though. I've got a bike rack too."

"'s fine."

"I heard from Maka that you don't think much of rhythmic gymnastics."

"Do you _need_ something?" Black Star sat up straight and frowned at her. "I don't have gas money. Or _anything_, really, so if you -"

"You caught me," Zumba swooned and wobbled dramatically. "I desperately wanted to have the chance to talk to the great Black Star alone. And I _knew_ he wouldn't be stupid enough to refuse a ride in this downpour! Total blackmail!"

She impishly peeked around her hand at him, and he stared, bewildered, back at her.

She was _definitely _making fun of him.

* * *

"Flattery isn't going to get you everywhere," he mumbled during the ride home.

"No," she simpered without taking her eyes off the road. "But it did get _you_ in the _car_."

* * *

It was nearly five-thirty when Zumba pulled into the parking lot. He muttered a hurried thanks to her before dashing up the stairs.

Black Star fiddled with his keys and all but fell through the doorway, right into a shouting match.

"He's late because he's playing with his friends at the gym."

Whitley Star stared lazily at the two standing men from his cushy recliner. He'd tidied himself up for today, as always. His snow-white hair was styled into professional spikes, and he'd managed to tuck in his shirt. If there was ever a time Black Star could expect his father to be home, it was on visiting day with the social worker.

"Yeah? One, he's not late. Two, _he_ sounds pretty productive. Up to anything yourself, Whit? I imagine I'll be seeing you downtown again sometime soon," Probation Officer Spirit Albarn said through gritted teeth. He'd always had a hard time separating his personal beliefs from his work. And the proper environment in which to raise children was something he had very strong opinions about. Black Star liked him enough.

"Spirit, please," a gray-haired man in a similarly colored suit spoke evenly to the officer and nodded towards Black Star as he quietly shut the door. Franklin Stein had been his social worker for as long as he could remember. Calm and collected, he gave off the aura of always knowing exactly what was going on in everyone's head. Black Star didn't like him quite as much. "You do your job. I'll do mine. Why don't you discuss Mr. Star's probation with him in another room while I have a chat with his son?"

The officer made a strangled sound that made Black Star believe Spirit wanted to do anything _but_ talk to his father. With a narrowing of his eyes, the Spirit turned on his heel and made a brusque motion for the sitting man to follow him. Whitley smiled tightly and obliged. The door slammed shut behind them.

"How has gymnastics been?"

Stein was the first to break the silence. He pulled a little clipboard out of his bag and handed Black Star a soda.

"Good," Black Star plopped down into a foldout chair. He'd learned to keep his answers short. Not too much detail.

"I heard from Coach Kid that you're hoping to head to some national meets."

"Yep."

"And how about the job? At Excalibur?"

"Fine."

"I'm glad. Is there anything you'd like to talk to me about?"

"Nope."

Black Star took a swig of his soda and met Stein's cool, bespectacled gaze. The man seemed to consider him for a moment, and then put away his clipboard. He clasped his hands together.

"Black Star, I'm not trying to force you into accusing anyone of anything, or put you in any situation that you don't want to be in," Stein spoke softly, like he always did. "You know that, don't you? It's just a standard visit. I just want to talk about how you're doing, what's going on in your life. And I can't know that, if you don't talk to me. Why don't you tell me about the routine you and Coach Kid are working on."

Black Star rolled his eyes and started talking. Conditioning, timing, flips, rolls. He was good at explaining these things in layman's terms. Before he knew it the visit was over and the door to his parents' room had creaked open.

"You come over for dinner with me and Maka any time, you hear Black Star?" Spirit put a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Sure thing, Officer Albarn," Black Star shuffled his feet a little uneasily.

The front door swung shut and they were gone.

"What'd I tell you about dying your hair like this?"

Black Star winced as his father grabbed a fistful of his hair and threw his head forward.

"Like bleach-white's any better," he clenched his jaw and rubbed his sore scalp. "Where's Mom?"

"Hell if I know," Whitley walked back into his room for a change of clothes and some peace. "Put on something nicer. And for the love of Pete, cover up that stupid hair. We have work to do tonight."

"But I've got work in the morning!"

His father stopped mid-stride and for a second, Black Star thought he'd made a big mistake. But then, he put his foot down and just looked at him. Sternly.

"Honest money. How cute," he cackled gruffly. "This is bigger. Better. It's not _how_ you make money that matters, kid. We do this job and we might never have to work again."

Black Star watched a door slam shut for what seemed like the hundredth time that day and sighed. If there was anything he'd been trained for, it was dealing with his plans being shredded to ribbons in front of his very eyes.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

_Author's Note:__ It is with the heaviest of hearts that I inform you that I am not the creative owner of Soul Eater, nor am I one of the DWMA's students myself. However, I do hope that you enjoyed the first chapter of Rhythm. If y'all notice any inconsistencies or have any suggestions, feel free to point them out._

_Best,_

_MebbeSumday _


End file.
